


What to do with three drunk space pirates

by DpsMercy



Category: The Bifrost Incident - The Mechanisms (Album), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, Eldritch Lyf, Enemies to friends to maybe lovers? Dunno, Gonna add character and relatioship tags as I decide on them, Lyf breaks the mechs out of prison, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, These are my enemies I broke them out of jail myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:34:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26921479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DpsMercy/pseuds/DpsMercy
Summary: What if the prison mechs failed to escape? What if Lyfrassir came to break them out instead?
Relationships: Ivy Alexandria & Lyfrassir Edda, Lyfrassir Edda & Marius von Raum, Lyfrassir Edda & Raphaella la Cognizi, Lyfrassir Edda & The Mechanisms, polymechs
Comments: 18
Kudos: 125





	What to do with three drunk space pirates

Lyf sits hunched at their desk, they face hidden in their hands. They are shaking, and they dig their bitten-down nails into their brow to try and make them stop.

Still, they somehow manage to keep their voice steady as they speak into the device before them.

“So there you have it, the train has arrived and it’s only a matter of time. The prisoners were right. I’ve charted a small ship and as soon as I finish this bottle I’m setting off for the Hoddmimis mining colony far from the Yggdrasil system. I’m not stopping there, just refuel and keep going.” It feels like an admission of guilt. They have never been one to run away, but now they see no other option. “If anyone hears this record in time, I suggest you do the same.”

The horrors of the blackbox recordings flash behind their closed eyes. The colors, oh, the colors. They blindly fish for the bottle of hard liquor that is nearly empty and take a large swig. They barely feel the sting.

“Inspector second class Lyfrassir Edda signing off. Good luck.”

They force themselves to open their eyes just like they force themselves to ignore the colors still swirling at their vision’s edges, just like they force themselves to ignore the forever looping memory of a distant chant from Ratatosk's black box. 

Their head is spinning, just slightly, as they lift it to look at the screen before them and they choke down at a giggle that would no doubt turn into a sob.

Maybe this would be a good time to cry, but they can’t muster the energy to do so. They are listless, too drained by the hours of fear and horror. They are tired and they just. don’t. Care.

It’s so easy, to press that last button, to toss their recording into the far reaches of the net, to send it towards anyone who might pay attention and pass it onwards.

They are done.

There is nothing left to do but run.

They stumble to their feet, take a moment to regain their balance. There is nothing for them to take, nothing they fear to lose. No family, no pets, and they really do hate their job when they get down to it. They just grabbed the bag they had packed for the last vacation that they never went on before they came to the station to record this last warning.

Is there anyone who would listen, if they called them now, told them the truth of what’s about to come chasing after the destroyed express?

The notification light on their phone is flashing softly. They should probably hurry, but they take their time to read the news anyway, always the dutiful inspector.

‘We should go’ Alexandria had said of La Cognizi and Von Raum when Lyfrassir brought them the black box. The report, an hour or so old, tells Lyf that they failed in that account.

They had known, hadn’t they? They have sat in that jail cell for sixty years and they knew what would come, they were ready to give Lyf answers the moment that they asked. Why didn’t they speak up? Why didn’t they say anything between confessions to hundreds of crimes -sometimes through song, and catchy song at that, damn them.

Lyf wants to be angry, but they know that they simply would not have believed them. Nobody will believe the story of a delusional overworked inspector, and that same inspector wouldn’t have believed a word of the Bifrost’s story had they not seen the black box’s contents themselves.

At least the prisoners decided to run. Not that they succeeded, probably dragged back to a high-security cell after being shot a time or two by some sharp-shot that got lucky.

Lyfrassir looks down, to where the cells lay. They want to feel angry, maybe maliciously gleeful. They should hate them for the truth that they hid, but they can’t do so, not even when they try to drudge up the memory of dozens of confiscated violins and even more iterations of a single annoying song.

Their hand clutches at their security clearance card, they’re not sure when they even picked it up. There are rainbows in the corners of their vision, a chant in their ears, and way too much liquor clouding their mind.

They tip back the bottle, then toss the empty vessel to smash somewhere behind them.

Before they can question their decision, Lyf hefts their bag over their shoulder, picks up the black box and the violin that still sits in the trash can by their door, and heads down towards the cells where three prisoners wait.

Lyfrassir isn't sure how they make it down to the cells without any questions being asked. Maybe it's the late hour, or maybe it's because the rookie guards left at their posts know better than to bother Lyf while they're on a warpath. Their brow does almost hurt from their scowl as they focus on not swaying with each step that they take. Whatever bottle they emptied, it must have had quite an alcohol content, they hadn't really checked.

But if all-nighters fuelled by nothing but coffee and spite taught them anything, it's how to walk in a straight line and look ready for action even when their vision is going dark.

They almost wish that that was the case, just burnout from coffee and sleepless nights, but a chant loops endlessly in their ears like a bad case of tinnitus and that's an issue for whenever they want to confront the reality of their situation and today is not that day.

They would really like to survive until tomorrow, maybe they can schedule a breakdown then.

For now, Lyfrassir strides down the corridor like they own the place and tries to time their breathing by the clicking of the hard soles of their shoes.

Left, right, swipe the card against the scanner, through the door, left, another card swipe, third cell on the right.

“Ivy whatever you’re doing, do it faster! The eldritch rainbow shitshow won’t wait!” That’s a voice Lyfrassir recognizes, though they have never heard it sound quite this worried. Almost scared. He can see the man#s arm before he can see him entirely - it’s sticking out between the bars, holding something to a piece of exposed wiring where, somehow, the paneling has been ripped off.

“Von Raum.” Lyfrassir may feel empty and hollow and really quite drunk, but it’s almost by instinct now that the name is said with an incredible amount of irritation.

Whatever commotion was going in the cell stops for a moment, just enough for Lyf to take in the scene. Alexandria is fiddling with some kind of handheld machine whose make Lyf can’t quite recognize while La Cognizi is leaning over her shoulder. The machine has bundles of wires spilling from it, most now in Von Raum’s hands.

They all stare at each other and then, as expected-  
“Inspector Lyf-” Von Raum beams.

“Shut up.” Lyfrassir cuts him off. They take the keycard out of their pocket. “I assume you’re trying to copy this?”

Ivy perks up. “Oh, yes. We already shut down the cameras, and there’s a twenty percent chance-”

The lock beeps and the light above it blinks green. In the cell, nobody moves. Not keen on waiting on the three no-longer-prisoners, Lyf swings the door open with a sigh and then, because they have already given up on all their respectability, they fake a bow with as much spite in the motion as their dizzy mind can fit.

“After you.”

La Cognizi is the first to move if only to pull Alexandria to her feet. The latter tries to put her machine away, but Marius robs her of the option by simply tossing the wires -and thus the machine- away without much care.

“Inspector Lyf-”

Because they might as well do so, Lyfrassir throws Von Raum’s violin at him. He fumbles to catch it, and Alexandria takes that moment to speak up.

“There was a less than one percent chance that you would do that.”

Lyf shrugs. “You better not waste it. Follow me.”

They do not wait for the three to come to a decision, they just turn on their heel and most definitely do not stumble into the wall as they get going back down the hall. In any case, there are soon footsteps following them. Some small corner of their mind notes with some surprise that there’s no bullet suddenly lodged in their back. That surprise disappears like water running between fingers, or maybe Odr fading away within the Ratatosk.

They keep a brisk pace purely under the assumption that momentum will help them stay upright. Alexandria’s statement about the cameras being off must be true because no armed security detail comes running towards Lyfrassir or the escapees that they lead through the precinct.

However, luck only goes so far. It’s the last hall towards the back exit, and there’s a man in a uniform much like Lyf’s leaning against the wall, sipping from a cup of coffee that Lyfrassir recognizes as being the despicable brew from the kiosk across the street. The man barely looks at Lyf for a second before turning away. Then just a second later their eyes widen and he turns back towards them with a jolt, his eyes focused on the prisoners Lyf knows walk a few steps behind them.

Still, that second of hesitation is the officer’s downfall. It’s only once their knuckles are already burning that Lyf remembers that they do, in fact, have a taser attached to their belt. They dazedly blink down at the man that now lays on the ground, idly push one of the straps of their bag to lay better on their shoulder.

The uproarious laughter behind them makes Lyf jolt.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” Von Raum wheezes between giggles as Lyf twists around to face him. “It’s just you look as harmless as a kitten and-”

Lyf’s already stinging fist doesn’t quite feel the second impact, but Von Raum falls all the same. Lyf blinks, and then Von Raum’s on the floor, gasping like a fish out of water, metal hand pressed to his reddening cheek. Lyf refuses to figure out exactly what the look in his eyes is. Their thoughts are too full of cotton to even try.

They have a simple checklist now: get out of the precinct, get to the ship, get out, refuse to consider why they have three tagalongs with them, refuse to acknowledge the bismuth crowning their vision, maybe have a sobbing breakdown or two. Anything beyond that is for another day.

La Cognizi looks almost delighted as she yanks Von Raum up with surprising strength, while Alexandria is the dictionary definition of unimpressed.

“There was a seventy-three percent chance they would do that.”

“Can we  _ please  _ just go?”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and speculations give me life. Updates might come slowly.  
> Come yell at me @scribledda on tumblr.
> 
> Might go back to edit this a bit when it's not 2 am :)


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